Christmas in the Real World

I know. It's been a month. I just haven't been able to bring myself to post. I can't even sort my own thoughts these days.

The week before Thanksgiving some things changed in our home, and our fight for joy began.

Fight. for. Joy.

It's interesting. I can remember being younger, crying to my mom that I just wanted to be happy. It was as if this imaginary happy cloud would come over my head, and ...

POOF, bless me with happiness for eternity.

One of my favorite new quotes is from Ann Voskamp, "I hadn't known that joy meant dying."

Not happiness, but joy.

Every year around Thanksgiving my expectation of a Norman Rockwell holiday season creeps into my head. I whisper to James that I just want wonderful holidays for our family and the kids. When he asks what that looks like, it typically means Mommy is in control, order, the gifts are wrapped and done by the 20th, and we all have time to settle in for a long winter's nap.

But I'm in the real world. We all are, whether we want to admit it or not. Some of us are still striving for perfection that is unattainable. We think there will suddenly be this moment where it is all together. Secretly, I long for that.

Christmas decorations are still piled in my closet, because I just became so dang tired of looking at them undone. If you open any cabinet in my house, your head is in danger from things falling out. The laundry literally is touching our ceiling. Christmas cards may just not happen. And who knows what the kids want, or are even getting for Christmas. To the world, I'm so far from having Christmas done. There's a sneaky part of me that wants to panic, tell myself I'm doing it the wrong way, and scream at everyone that it's their fault.

But the truth of Christmas in the real world...

My Savior entered the world. Many were too busy to stop. As we all know, there was no room. The world kept spinning.

The truth...

"If you do it to the least of these, you've done it unto me."

The truth, and I don't mean this pridefully...

I may be doing Christmas for the first time in my life.

It's not me. There are a lot of moments these last few weeks - things have been kind of hard - that I've said some no way's and no more's.

But it is God. He's made my home a revolving door. The percentage of children who enter our home that are "fatherless" far outweighs the friends who come over from "normal" families. He's forcing me to surrender my to do's, that I really don't want to let go of.

He's making my life beautiful.

It's not me. It's my Savior.

We are so broken, so disappointing. But, we simply said yes to the One who never disappoints.

I think for the first time I may be experiencing Christmas as it was meant to be.

Tasting

If you're not aware, it's National Adoption/Orphan Awareness Month.

I never knew this existed until last year.

This Sunday, November 6th, hundreds of churches will join together to proclaim their hope in the gospel and to advocate the ministries of adoption and orphan care among the nations.

If you know me well, you know this orphan thing has always been part of my life, my heart. It was one of the first things I told Jamie when we began dating. I didn't grow up with this as an integral part of my family or life, but it was something always deep inside me.

If you're a close friend, there's a chance you're tired of Jamie and me. We've started hearing that this has taken over our lives, defined us, become the essence of who we are.

Maybe.

As I've said here many times, it would be so easy to sit in a church pew this Sunday and hear the shoulds, the coulds, the woulds because we are commanded to care for the orphan, the widow, the stranger.

But the truth is, when I look around, and see those I love choosing comfort, ease, predictability...My heart doesn't judge or guilt, it grieves.

Granted, we are all ministering in hundreds of ways, and we are all called to so many passions of our Father, but there are those of us who are choosing to stay safe and play it cool. I know because there was one day I wanted that more than anything.

But now, I've tasted. I've tasted what it is to fully delight myself - as much as I can know on this earth - in my Savior. I've tasted what it is to come utterly to the end of myself - hourly, and watch my Jesus appear.

I've tasted the brokenness of shattered dreams, waded through the muck with families, wept over the helplessness. I've tasted and seen those who really have never heard, or dreamed of the reality that they were made for more than this.

And I - the Lumpkin gang - have been there. To see firsthand our Father meet us, meet others over and over and over. There's so many moments where we almost missed the beauty, the ashes. And in a moment, He caught us to say Watch My hand move.

Speechless.

So when I sit in the pew on Orphan Sunday or as I listen to any other ministry being presented, I grieve as so many of us leave to the tune, "That's so amazing for you, because I could never..."

The Lumpkins aren't special. We're not superheroes, as much as we dress the part. The secret is none of us on this wild journey are. We just allow our Father to dream, to actualize the What If's through us....

And our world has exploded.

Now, I can't taste enough. I want more. I want Him. I want to see my Savior save, my Redeemer redeem, my Restorer restore.

So for today, I'm grateful for ...

Just tasting Him.

Humiliation

I'm surrounded by brokenness. I'm feeding it, washing it, living it. It's been compounded in the last few days.

Humiliation.

It's a word multiple people have said to me over the last week for different situations, heartaches, broken worlds.

You could take that word two ways.

1. When a mother, a father, a friend, tells me they are humiliated, I could whisper the words running through my mind, Bless your heart, you poor thing.

Then I tighten my jacket, pop on my lipgloss, and return to my controllable world (ha, ha).

Or....

2. I could invite that man, woman, hurting soul, into my life. Bring all their messiness to join with mine. I could take them to my Jesus, who on the cross took all. their. shame.

He exchanged it for hope, life, joy, and peace.

As I was so beautifully reminded yesterday....Jesus knew even THAT sin when He took on the shame of the world and bore it at the cross.

So today, I will thank Abba for the brokenness and humiliation because it takes me to the cross. It takes me to the truth that my God is a restoring God, and once again, I'm invited to bring that restoration to others today.

Gratefulness...

November...

Can you smell it? Hear it? See it?

Our backyard is a sea of leaves, every vibrant color. I can't take enough peaks out the window between laundry and diaper changing breaks to take it all in.

I hate having a "grateful" month. I've had every intention of following the 1,000 Gifts challenges and other thanksgiving projects throughout the year, but the minutes just weren't there. So, I suppose now is about as great a time to start as any.

Grateful for this...

Jamie gave his testimony at our Sunday school class on Sunday morning. I was horrified to hear him tell. it. all. He held nothing back. He told about the packing of bags, the screaming, the breaking of plates. He told of the days we didn't think we could stand each other one more day.

I felt myself sinking into my chair, making jokes to lighten the mood.

Then he told of his redemption, our redemption...the moment when we, as a family, fell to our knees and decided to quit fighting God. He told how our God is a restoring God; He's in the business of using us to take that restoration to others. We just have to say... Yes.

Those first five years, God was the same God. But, we were saying... No. I wanted my plans, my life, my freedom.

Now, each day, I rise to follow this man who is following his God, inviting us to say... Yes.

I'm so grateful.

Reflections on YES

Since I wrote last, this little word has been on the forefront of my mind. I've dwelled on it's importance, significance, and life-altering ability.

I think of the forefathers of faith who jumped on the wagon with a...No or even a Slow Down. Moses felt he was incapable. Sarah laughed in mockery at God's suggestions. Paul watched the order for Stephen's death to be carried out. Jonah ran as far as he could from the one place God told him to go.

I'm learning more and more, my sin nature screams at the very thing my heart cries YES to as I answer the call of Abba Father.

Sometimes this little answer comes to something big, life-shattering, my world-changing. But others times, it's a stepping stone. It's the prompts of the Holy Spirt that could easily go unknown by the world if we quietly say No.

As I was reminded by Lifeline's executive director Herbie Newell's prayer this weekend, I (we) exist to make God famous. This means every day, I'm given opportunity after opportunity to proclaim his name by saying Yes.

From the beginning, Jamie and I have said we are convinced we're called to this life journey of orphan ministry, but we're even more convinced we're not called to this alone. This last week, I've seen so many Yes' in my life.

• A friend said Yes to God's prompting her to take some of the kids for a morning
• My sweet sister said Yes much more than once to coming to my side
• A friend and her husband said Yes to bringing us dinner at the last minute, completely unexpected.
• A man said Yes to praying for me right then, in my presence.
• A high school gal said Yes to holding my hand while I just blubbered. She never even asked why. She just let me cry.
• A Yes to sending an encouraging text, dropping a phone call, hoping with me...

I could go on and on.

Sometimes, when we watch fellow sisters and brothers in Christ take steps of faith, our tendency is to isolate them. We mean it encouraging. But, in truth, the... You're amazing! I could never! How do you do it? They only isolate.

But...

The littlest Yes' to entering in, holding up one another's arms once again, coming alongside each other, gives us the courage to ignore the lies and believe we can say Yes once again as we make our Savior famous in our obedience.

Yes.

It may be one of the highest honors of my life.

Thursday afternoon, she called. Mattie, our former 13-year-old Chinese foster daughter, called and said, "Catie, I'm getting baptized. I want you there."

At that very moment, my mind had been thinking about all the broken mess that was surrounding us. My heart was so. very. heavy. for the circumstances represented in our home.

Maybe I wasn't made for this.

Then she called.

The Lumpkin eight piled in our car early Sunday morning. We drove a good while, pulling into the parking lot as Mattie's sister gave the one-minute warning from the walkway. With six kids in tow, we hurried through the sanctuary doors to see her in the front baptismal.

My breath was taken away. Tears began to fall.

There was the same girl, who nine months ago looked like she had bottled all the brokenness in the world. There was the girl we had wept over, prayed over, and knelt with as she said, "I want to give my life to Jesus."

But this girl looked so different, marked with purpose, peace and hope.

I sat on the pew, whispering, Jesus loves you into Baby J's ear. Jamie, Caleb, Benjamin and I silently cried as we watched her go under, and rise again...all smiles. I looked around me to see a family, her forever, number one family, delighting in the Father's work.

My family has grown so big.

I turned to Jamie. We almost said no. The truth is we did. We were terrified of a teenager, of an international child. We weren't equipped for that in our thoughts. But however many times we said no to each other, God said yes a million times more. So she came, and God wove us into her story of redemption, of His kingdom expanding.

Jamie looked at me. I know; we almost missed this.

Because of God's YES, I had one of the greatest honors of my life. I saw the very hand of God move in the life of a child. I was on the front lines.

"I am so very happy, Catie," she said to me as we walked around the church afterwards.

So am I.

* The fully story is Mattie's to tell. But we have been given permission from her forever family, to tell our portion here.

Back from the Dark Side

I can't believe it's six weeks since I've posted. There's a million and one reasons, but mainly...

I went to the dark side.

It's fascinating the people who've come up to me with sympathetic eyes, and said, "I told you so."

And they did.

For the first few weeks after Baby M left, I embraced that reality, nursed it; let it breed all the bitterness I could muster. I explored my anger with all the players involved, the foolishness, the disappointment. I bought into my rights, my self-righteousness, my defenses.

But, right or wrong, I am understanding, I needed to go to the dark side. I needed to hear the cock crow after denying Christ's work in my life many more than three times. I needed to stand and see myself mocking the very image of God in people who have lost all hope. I needed to see this rich young ruler turn, not believing I could abandon it all, holding loosely, in order to cling to the only true hope I profess.

I needed to go there.

Baby M was our first. There's something about that. It's different too because Mattie is now part of a earthly forever family who loves Jesus more than anything else on earth. They welcome our calls and letters.

After M, I reached a point of crying "Uncle", and asking, "What's the point?"

The Father allowed me to go to the dark side, because it was there, that I saw His face. I saw the times I've left him, clung to my own hope and righteousness, and strived in my own efforts. He allowed me to be reminded of how ugly this broken, messed up vessel really is, and He gave me glimpses of His beauty and glory that is being revealed through His work in our family.

He sobered me up.

So when the call came last Friday night, I didn't remember the "I told you so's." I didn't remember the grief, or the bitterness.

Instead, I remembered a young mother who can't get past her shame and needs someone to commit to praying for her for a lifetime, whether she welcomes it or not. I remembered a daddy who can't seem to settle on his role or identity in this crazy mess. And, I thought of a two-week old who simply needs a safe place to sleep, a warm bottle, and the words Jesus loves you, one trillion times.

I remembered the fact that I have been commanded, and so I obey.

Warning: This post may be offensive to some.

I haven't known what to write this week. I still don't really know. I could give you the details, the heart-wrenching images of five hours in family court. I could tell you of the surrounding attacks Satan made on our family this week, in an attempt to despair us. To be honest, I haven't even been journaling, which is nothing like me. I've only been wailing, silently crying, and on my knees before my Heavenly Father.

It's been interesting the remarks I've gotten. So many of you have written emails, left messages of encouragement and hope. I haven't had the energy to reply. But I feel your prayers. It's not just M, there's some other things going on, but M is our primary heartache right now.

But there are other responses:

I told you this would happen.

She was never yours to begin with.

I told you you're destroying your children.

You have your hands full anyway. It's a gift she's gone.

You really don't need to do this again. I won't let you do this again.

There are others. Honestly, some are too painful to write. It is true that I expected this to happen. It is true that she was never mine. It's true my hands are full and there are five more in my house, two not mine. It's true that logically speaking we shouldn't do this again.

My God doesn't follow logic.

I loved what Jamie said in the previous post that if orphan care was easy, all Christians would be doing it. That's not to say this is a higher calling. I believe it goes for all ministry. Ministry is sacrifice. It's the sacrifice of our time, our money, our home, our hearts. It's the laying down of our expectations, our lifestyle, our dreams of what success looks like.

It's the taking up of a cross, where a forsaken, materially impoverished, beaten, rejected, homeless Savior died, so that we will die to ourselves.

Yes, God does bless, and yes, God provides good things, and yes, we should rejoice in those good things. But they are not for or about us; they are for the kingdom to be expanded as we enjoy and distribute them.

The truth in light of those hard responses we've received is this:

Even if I had known for certain this would be the outcome, I would do it again in a heartbeat. We were called to take Baby M in, and I will not live in fear of what may happen, because I have been promised everything I need in life and godliness in response to the calling the Father has given.

She was ours for that time. Each child that comes into our home we are called to be a steward of. She is worthy of being grieved. God called her to transform our hearts, and for us to be the incarnation of Christ to her family for a season. That season is worthy of being grieved for a time.

My children are hurting, both the girls and the boys. Even Mattie grieved with us as we told her over the phone. But, what a gift to address godly grief with my children in the home. What a gift that my sons used it to share the gospel - no - to be the gospel to our next door neighbor. What if the very thing I'm sheltering my children from, is the one thing God will use most to form them into the image of His Son.

My hands are full. I rise at 3, to go to bed at 10, with a four page to-do list left. I meet and talk with social workers, parents, counselors - all multiple times a day. BUT, I've never been more alive. I've never tasted more deeply of the Father, and never needed my Savior more.

The world would say we shouldn't do this again. But we're not of the world. In fact, we're strangers, aliens to this world, so we're going in, headstrong, no regrets, with broken hearts that are ready to be broken again for the sake of Christ.

A Message from the Other Half

This week we had to let go of our first. Our first girl in the house (besides my wife). The first infant I’ve ever held other than my sons. Our first foster child. Baby M went to be with her great aunt and uncle this week, her new forever mom and dad.

She captivated our hearts from the very start. She was by far the easiest and most laid back baby we’ve ever had. She smiled constantly, slept well, and had a sparkle in her eyes. It has been an emotional week for us to say the least. Even in the midst of all this transition and grief, God has still been evident through it all.

It’s almost indescribable the feeling you have when you give your heart to a child and then they leave. I guess it’s similar to your child leaving the home for college. I started reflecting back on why we started this journey. God brought these verses to my mind:

"Cry aloud; do not hold back; lift up your voice like a trumpet; declare to my people their transgression, to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet they seek me daily and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that did righteousness and did not forsake the judgment of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments; they delight to draw near to God. 'Why have we fasted, and you see it not? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you take no knowledge of it?' Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure, and oppress all your workers. Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to hit with a wicked fist. Fasting like yours this day will not make your voice to be heard on high. Is such the fast that I choose, a day for a person to humble himself? Is it to bow down his head like a reed, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Will you call this a fast, and a day acceptable to the LORD? "Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh? Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, 'Here I am.' If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.” – Isaiah 58:1-10

If taking care of the orphans, widows, homeless and hungry were easy, then all Christians would be doing this. But in reality it’s hard. It’s hard to get involved in people’s lives, to sacrifice yourself and love them completely and sacrificially. It’s not natural for us to use our biggest personal resources (time and money) on others. But it’s what we’re called to do, and it’s what God expects of us as His Church.

I’ve been so amazed at my wife and sons through all of this. They have not only shown the orphans in our house the love of Christ, but have encouraged me as well. I’ve seen my sons make steps towards becoming men of integrity, responsibility, of sacrifice. They are becoming men of God. My wife has shown strength and courage that I never knew she had. She has ministered to not only the children in our house, but also the family members of the children. She has been an amazing minister of the gospel.

I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now. I realize that all the things that have gone on in the past seven months have not been because we’re amazing, but because we have an amazing God who has chosen to work through His people to do amazing things. I am humbled to know that He has used us in a small way in the lives of those who have crossed our threshold.

Though there will certainly be more tears and grieving in the coming days, we know that God is taking care of Little M. My hope is that our tears of sadness will one day be tears of joy as God calls her to his own. It has been such a privilege and honor for her to be our first.

Wordless Moments

I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, snapshots of my evening burn and chisel, a little deeper into my mind, becoming part of who I am, transforming me.

Baby M leaves Tuesday. We love this little girl more than words can say; she's been our daughter for this season, a member of our family. But, I can't get my mind around what I was invited to, what I have been a part of.

Last night we had a picnic with M's maternal grandmother, her sister, and her father. He had not seen her since the day she was born; she was eight months yesterday.

I wish I could give you my mind, my thoughts, but I suppose it's a small wordless gift the Father has given me, a hope, a reassurance of His hand.

We had a picnic on our church playground. M's father is Hispanic, and he took off her little smocked outfit, and dressed her in a Mexico soccer shirt. It's too big, but she wore it last night, slept in it, and will wear it today. I may even wash it and send her to her new home in it tomorrow.

As Jamie and I watched a father hold his little girl, and whisper his story, her history into her ears over the next hour...It was addictive. He had an hour to squeeze all the words he wanted her to know from his life, from what he has missed of hers, and for her future.

Te amo, te amo, te amo....I think I fell asleep to the whisper of his voice against her head.

They went to church with us. Our church has a summer hymn sing and ice cream social every year. It's a blast. They came. Our six bambinos, M's sister, grandma, dad and Jamie and I took up an entire row plus some. We were loud; we were a mess; it was beautiful.

There was a moment when I looked down towards the end with six kids fighting over seats and crayons, and then I looked at the end with Dad holding his sleeping daughter....he was crying, Grandma was crying, Jamie was tearing up, what else could I do, except cry.

There's a moment I dread regularly as a foster parent. It's the moment the mom, dad, grandma, or aunt is holding his or her child and desperately whispering the promises, the love, the hope, the assurance. It's a parental holy moment. I feel like I'm invading something sacred, and then it's my turn to gently pull the child away, as they ask a hundred times how much longer until they see them again. I drive them home to tuck them in to their bed in my house, where they dream of their mommy.

As it came time to take Makayla home, Dad hugged me, thanking me over and over, crying. Grandma did the same. I said, "No, thank you for the honor of being part of your family for this season, for trusting me with your daughter. It's a gift."

A couple of weeks ago, Fran Sciacca reminded Jamie and I over dinner that there's a moment you cross as a believer, where you don't share the gospel anymore...you are the gospel. You are the incarnation of Christ. As I said goodbye to M's family, I was screaming inside my head, running with fear, throwing the tantrum of I wants. But my Savior removed me, He reached out His hand to His creation through me, and He loved, where I dreaded to go.

I'm the changed one. I'm the honored one. I'm the grateful one. I have no right to this, but He's letting me put my hand in. He's letting me - this broken, selfish, control-obsessed mother - be His hands and His feet, the very ones that bled for me.

The Summer Blues....

My sister Sarah is 10 years younger than me. When we were little, she would meander around the house singing, "I'm B-O-R-E-D, BORED." The song had a fabulous little tune. Wish I could sing it aloud for you :)

I knew going into this summer, that's one thing I couldn't handle. If six (or five speaking kids) say they're bored five times a day - I've heard it 25 times each day! (Yes, I've grown in my math skills. Chalk it up to homeschooling).

Aside from annoying, this little comment has a deeper issue. When my children say this, they are saying, they are ungrateful for what the Father has provided for them. They are unable to use the creative and imaginative skills He has given them, and they need to be served, rather than finding new ways to serve others.

So you see our answer. When anyone begins the BORED song, Jamie and I hold out our hand for 50 cents, kindly say we're not their cruise director (as my friend Kelly Jackson taught me), and point to the BORED BOARD.

A New Season

Our July looks different for the first time in six years. We're not in Mexico. If you know us well, you know that for the last five years Jamie and I have been involved in leading and sending in some capacity our senior high youth group to minister in a small village in Mexico. But this time, year six and six kids in the home just couldn't add up. Our hearts have fervently been praying this week for our team, as well as our dear friends we've made over the years there. The village of Yobain and its people are a HUGE part of our story, God's calling on our lives, and His vision for our ministry.

This last year has been a season of grieving as the Father has undoubtedly moved us away from youth ministry. For six years, there was a senior high kid or kids in our home almost everyday and often late into the night. Our first group will be seniors in college this next year.

That's a doozie.

It's interesting the remarks we've gotten as we've stepped away to instead, bring youth and children into our home. Some, have really struggled, rather than stepping in and coming alongside the spots we left to be filled. Others have prayed with us and understood. There were moments when I've felt like we failed by moving out.

But then...

One of my sophomore girls came up to Big Sis R and asked if she could be one of her best friends.

My senior high gals left flowers on the front porch.

These girls and guys seek out the children in our home and have made them their own. They have started doing their own youth ministry to us Lumpkins.

You see, it was good and true for Jamie and me to pour ourselves into these kids we love desperately, some of whom really have become our best friends, but we didn't do it for them. We did it because we were called to make disciples of all nations, and disciples don't stay in the nest forever. The kids we've taught, loved on, cried with, spent the night with and taxied around, could have gone on seeing themselves as the focus of our ministry and whimpered when God moved us away.

But our rock stars have realized that they have been discipled to make disciples. That's why they are banging down our door to love on the kids in our home, and why God is taking them literally to the ends of the earth to carry forth His gospel.

The Father didn't need us to impact these kids lives, but He let us put our hands in.

How awesome is that?

A Time to Grieve

God was so gracious this weekend, in that we were able to find respite for all three girls, and my mom took the boys. It's been a tumultuous week to say the least, as plans for Little Sis M have changed from second to second, literally.

The boys and I were taking Little Sis to her respite. As I began unbuckling her, Daniel (3), began kicking, screaming, and crying uncontrollably, saying, "Mommy, it's not time for her to go yet. I'll miss her too much."

I tried to explain to his little mind, that we would all be together again tomorrow, but even when the time does come for her to leave, it will be okay because God is a big and good God no matter what happens.

He didn't get it.

A short hour later I walked into Lifeway to find a Bible to send with Little Sis. I'm not sure what happened, but a wave of grief and disappointment hit me. I began weeping in the middle of the store, pretty uncontrollably. Yes, everyone watched in pity. My heart kicked and screamed within me, saying it's just not time yet. Everything in me felt that God wasn't big enough, and Jesus couldn't still be on His throne if my heart was this heavy.

Praise God His Son didn't act on His feelings in the Garden. And Praise God, Jesus trusted His Father enough to share His plea, because I know He understands.

We know we're called to orphan care, but this unique aspect of orphan ministry brings another creepy baggage with it...that of grief. We're told the goal is reunification; we understand it, and we even beg God for it, but we also realize the truth that there will most likely be some who stay, some who return, and some who go to entirely different homes.

But understanding these things doesn't change that we've done the diapers for the last six months, or that she's reached for us when she's cried. It doesn't change that we're the ones who've whispered the name of Jesus in her ear every chance we get, and we're the ones who've hit our knees every morning, crying out for her heart to long for a Savior even now. It doesn't change that in every sense of the word, except the legal one, we have been her family.

She has been our daughter #3, and our daughters #1 and #2, will be here for a season. These girls are worth celebrating, and they are worth grieving, especially when you know you may never hear their voices or see their faces again.

So we grieve. But this week, I've realized I've grieved before my sons with the belief that I trust my God with eternity, but not with today. I've grieved as if I'm a victim of a broken world, rather than a daughter of a Victor who is redeeming that world.

I've held in the tears, and let them fester to bitterness and unbelief, telling them their Heavenly Father isn't big enough to take it.

So today in the car, my three sons and I wept together. We held hands and cried, and told God we were sad and mad that things hadn't quite gone as we had hoped.

Caleb squeezed my hand and prayed, "Sometimes, God, I get really discouraged that you've told our family to do this. It's really hard, God. But like Mommy says, 'You are still God, and Jesus is still on His throne, so we know you won already.'"

I almost let my despair make me miss it. I almost cried Uncle. I almost chose comfort.

But by His grace, I let my sons taste the suffering of their Savior. I let them see the glimpse of the grief the Father had as He surrendered His Son. I let them see that the pain, the sadness, the tears are real, and we own them as we grieve a broken world and the deep discomfort of letting go.

But...

In that same moment they point to a victory we already have, and we can share in the suffering of the cross, because it's been completed, and we know the end. And as we taste the pain for this very short season, we will realize the joy that conquered death and despair forever.

I almost missed it.

Father to the Fatherless

I gave Jamie the perfect gift for Father's Day.

I ranted, raved, kicked, screamed, and I have to say, it was the perfect pity party of a day for me. I made sure this amazing father and husband knew absolutely nothing was going my way.

He held me and wept with me.

I loved hopping on Facebook yesterday and seeing everyone's comments, rejoicing over their amazing dads and husbands. It forced me to pause for a second and consider...

It was 10 years ago last week I made a commitment to this man. 10 years ago that we walked around our apartment parking lot planning the two children we would have five years apart. Planning the expensive schools we would send them to, and swearing we would never homeschool. It was 10 years ago we plotted amazing career journeys, and dreamed wonderfully vain dreams of big homes and nice cars.

And, it was 10 years ago Jamie looked at me and said, "Above all else, I want the heart of the Father."

Now it's today.

We are blessed. But our vain dreams are fleeting away, and our hearts cry has become as Aaron Ivey sings, "Distribute what we have so that all may taste and see Your kingdom come."

And Jamie's longing to look like his heavenly Father, has caused him to become the leader in our crazy pursuit of a life where our family's characters are constantly changing, the bed sinks somewhere below the hundreds of loads of laundry, the grocery bills insanely mount, and all there's to show is yet another turkey sandwich dinner.

Is it worth it the sacrifice?

He leaves most days before 6 in the morning, and comes home at 6 in the evening. After serving and meeting important needs all day, He enters a realm where half the occupants have never known an example of a father, and they're begging him for one more look, one more prayer, one more laugh...

Is it worth the exhaustion?

Jamie would have to give his answer, but I can share my side of the story. In the six short months we've begun to care for orphans in our home, there have been nine. Nine.... little girls who have never known their daddy, who have never had anyone tell them they are worthy in the appropriate sense.... little boys who've never known anyone to represent and model all the crazy things they have bottled inside them, who have never had anyone to tell them they have what it takes.

Nine...who have never had anyone to read the gospel aloud to them, discipline them with the heart of a Father, sing them to sleep, and laugh over them as they greet the morning.

They say there are 147 million orphans in the world. I've met a mere nine, who've had a glimpse of their Creator through the heart of my husband, a glimpse of a Savior through the mercy shown through my sons' father.

A mere nine of 147 million who have watched a man they barely know wrestle, delight, admonish, and celebrate his three sons as they become little men of God who also want to look like their Father.

He longed to have the heart of His Father...and that has led him to be a Father to the Fatherless....

I would say it's worth it all and more.

Heavy-hearted Hope

The time has come that really in the back of our mind, we've dreaded for the last five months. We received word this week that we need to begin preparing for Little Sis M's leaving us.

Three years ago, Jamie and I set out to adopt. I wanted a little girl, and I wanted to rescue someone. So, when this little black-eyed baby was our first to foster, there was no doubt in our minds. We've made ourselves very clear to DHR from the beginning that we would love to keep her.

But, you see, this ministry isn't about me, or Jamie, or my boys, or even Little Baby M. This ministry is about His kingdom coming to earth. I was reminded of that today.

We got the phone call on Monday, and we've had a good week of tears, mixed with a VBS in our backyard, a tree struck by lightening, and everything else that goes with raising 6 kids. We received a request from M's family for a visit. We've been trying and praying for this for a while.

On the way to our meeting at the park, my soul kicked and screamed at God. I called Jamie too many times crying, saying I couldn't do this, and why did we ever obey the Father's leading.

Then, I sat for two hours on a park bench with a woman who told me her story. She told me the story of her children, and the brokenness of her life these last four years. I watched her hold this little girl I've sang to, prayed over, giggled with, and longed to be mine. She slept on her grandmother's chest, so perfectly. And I heard my Father's voice so clearly...

This is about Me.

And so then I took this woman's hand, and shared my story. I told her of my only hope, My Savior Jesus Christ.

Then, we prayed together and wept.

I wanted a little girl, whose hair I could put bows in, and I could parade in front of others. My dreams are so very small.

He's chosen my family to bring hope to the hopeless, to loose the chains of injustice, the bind the brokenhearted, and to bring freedom to the captive.

This isn't about me.

Today, on a park bench, the very glory of God was present. And I was part of it. We'll meet again to pray, talk and hold this sweet girl we both love in a week.

The time is coming soon for us to say goodbye to this daughter we love deeply, but we believe we are part of something that is bringing His kingdom into the lives of families here on earth.

It's not about us.

A Lie

It's been a rotten week. I've complained, cried, and stomped my feet real good. Our two new R's are transitioning, not great, but ok. It's not as much them, as it is me.

You see whenever God is using you, or leads you to answer a call, you can bet that's the last place Satan wants you. So expect an attack from every angle. In other words, I think it's safe to say that if you aren't fighting a battle in your life, you might want to check what you've settled for. Our enemy prowls around, looking for whom he may devour. If I'm the target, that doesn't seem like a life of ease and chocolate.

Anyway, through these new additions to our family, God has shown me some dark places I have failed to trust Him. He's asked, Do you really believe I'm enough? In two days we've experienced a busted car, busted head, and busted air conditioner...not exactly how we wanted to break the bank.

But, in my heart, I'm experiencing things much darker. I've bought into a lie. Somewhere between the branch through my window and the child always in my shadow, I began believing I'm alone in this battle, in this fight for these hearts. I'm alone in raising these girls, and boys, for a God's glory whose abandoned me to do His work. I bought into the lie that He has brought me to this place to leave me unprotected, unequipped, and unprovided for.

I bought into the lie that I'm... an orphan.

Today was the perfect storm. I rose at 3 am to do my Walmart trip. I decided to not spend time with my Father because I could fix things better on my own. Then, in the middle of the car packed with seven screaming, hitting, kicking individuals (I would be the 7th). I broke.

I can't do this alone, Father. Have you brought me here to leave me?

His answer over the next hour was...

• Four completely "random" text from friends saying they were lifting me up right at that moment.
• An older woman who I only know in passing me "randomly" asking me if she could pray for me on our knees right there, for joy and strength. She knew nothing.
• An envelope with cash in our mailbox.
• Dinner left by someone on our front porch.
• A friend asking if she could begin loving on Big Sis R.
• Another friend asking if she could begin watching Little Sis R regularly for me.
• Flowers on the front porch from my senior high gang.
• And a call with a new chance to share our story for the kingdom.

I bought the lie that I was alone; it was up to me to fix, order, maintain, and survive.

I'm an idiot.

Jonah 2:8 says, "Those who cling to worthless idols, forfeit the grace that could be theirs." I almost missed the precious graces He had for me today through the body He's called and provided to hold me up in my calling. I almost missed it.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

For Good Reason

We're on vacation :) We took the boys and Little Sis M away for a week before the girls moved in. It's been a time of rest, fun and reflection.

It was a year ago that God made it very clear to us that He was moving us away from the youth ministry. After five years, it was a time to grieve because it was (and still is) one of our deep passions. But God began to show us that the ways our home had been a safe place for these youth, He was now calling us to do the same for orphans. We had no idea a year ago how that would look.

The answer now...It's beautiful.

Jamie and I had a very turbulent first few years of our marriage. If my sisters are reading this, they're thinking...Yep. We are both passionate people. We love passionately, and we fight passionately. There's little in between. You wonder where my passion child, Benj, comes from.

We passionately planned the ways we would be most successful, and prayed God would bless our decisions. His answer was three wonderfully unexpected surprises in four years.

It was three months after we found out we were expected Daniel that God broke us completely. We gave up planning, on every front (ironically, we've had no bambino since then:) But seriously, we said from this point on God, whatever.

I have to be honest; in the back of my head I had visions of sacrifice and missional living. His answer to us was a lifestyle of loving and letting go. A lifestyle of showing families who met hopelessness, hope.

Jamie and I were talking through what our next season of life will look like. I won't lie; Satan keeps wanting us to be terrified. We're going into something that has very little plans. We've been told the timing is long. How long? Long.

But, we prayed whatever, and when you ask God for things, you need to expect He's gonna make you part of His answer. Would I miss being part of His answer in this case?

There's a Sara Groves song I love, and it goes, "For good reason hope is in our hearts. Alleluia, Christ our joy and strength."

How can I enter into something that I know will change our family's comfortable future? How can I hope when I have no idea what the next day or week or month or year looks like for us (even though none of us really do)?

Alleluia, Christ our joy and strength.

Nesting and Such...

This week has been blissful for me. Yes, everyone has run a fever, and yes, we haven't left home in three days, but I love home.

But more than anything, I'm nesting. I couldn't understand the restlessness I was feeling until this morning. I have been on non-stop go on the home front. Why?

May 31st we'll welcome our two new daughters for this new season. Yes, that will give us three supermen and three wonder women. Do the math, and it's six. I love walking by people in the grocery store now, knowing they're mentally counting, trying to think of the right way to comment, "Wow, you must have your hands full."

It's funny. When we only had Caleb, I craved alone time. I craved time for breaks. I craved my rights being made known.

Now, as we've had six in and out of our home during this transitional period, I crave the noise because I know our house is full. I crave the hysterically loud laughter because I know each of my children feels safe. I even slightly crave the midnight cries, because I know each child in my home has someone to cry out to.

What a precious compliment from my Father.

I'm learning more and more that I really have no clue what life looks like tomorrow for Jamie, me, or our children....our biological sons, as well as our foster daughters. My schedules are broken, my checkbook unbalanced, and routines nonexistent. I know life can't exist like that forever, but today, I'm using that old to-do time, to look into the face of a baby girl who can't remember what her mommy looks or sounds like. It's worth the unbalanced checkbook a thousand times over.

We recently attended a birthday party that consisted of only three foster families. There had to have been at least 20 kids between the three of us. It was the most outrageous thing hearing these kids be delightfully outlandish and wonderfully loud.

You see, I'm from the South. And when you're a momma in the South, it's hard not to dream of little girls in smocked dresses while that first is growing in your tummy.

But then we began orphan ministry, and we came face to face with the countless statistics, and we realized the truth that we're harboring the outcast. The child who has no place. At that birthday party, almost everyone of them would have been counted the outcast in our everyday society. But together, they were so perfectly at home....

I thought of our Messiah crying out to the poor, the beggar, the broken to come, eat, and rejoice...to sit in the place of honor. I've been invited to witness that.

I am witnessing that.

The body of Christ has been invited to witness it, and it's so beautiful.

Lifeline Women's Event

Hi all! I promised to share our testimony from Lifeline's Annual Women's Event. It was the most beautiful evening, and I believe God was so glorified. It was an honor to sit among other faithful adoptive mothers and courageous birthmothers, who vulnerably shared their stories of grace and hope. Here is what I shared...

I’m so grateful Krisha invited me to share our hearts with you this evening. I’m Catie Lumpkin, and Jamie and I are foster parents, and we're addicted to it, which is something I never thought I would say. And, we're also madly in love with Lifeline.

Jamie and I both went to Briarwood Christian School. We’ve been married for 10 years, and God graciously blessed us with three little superheroes in his timing: Caleb is 7, Benjamin is 5, and Daniel is 3. Our boys currently attend the homeschool co-op here, where I also teach.

Some of our most consistent friends and mentors throughout the years have been Fran and Jill Sciacca, who many of you know. When we were in Fran’s class at Briarwood, he drove into our heads the concept of: whatever God was calling you to, you must consider where and whom He was calling you to serve…

If the Father was leading you to be a doctor, where will you be a doctor? If you’re being called to serve as a teacher or lawyer or whatever, who is He calling you to be the incarnation of Christ to? He was constantly reminding us that none of this is really about us.

When we had been married for five years, we suddenly looked up and realized the world would completely understand if we were to settle down at that point. We had three little guys running around, a comfortable home, and jobs. But the Father began using what Fran had shared with us many years before to challenge our lives, but His question became…If you’re going to be a father or a mother, whom will you be a father or mother to?

And as we studied His word, we began to discover that if He called himself a Father to the fatherless, and if He called us the Bride of his Son, a member of the triune God, then we had been given a precious, intimate invitation to also be a father to the fatherless, a mother to the motherless, so when Daniel was still very young, we began to pursue an adoption through Lifeline.

Adoption was never a plan b for us. We always knew we would adopt, and honestly prayed for the birthfamilies of our children long before we prayed for our biological children. So it was a natural progression for our own sons, but soon after we started the adoption process, Caleb came to us with a map he had drawn of 10 beds in our home. He very confidently said, “We won’t have one orphan; we’ll have at least 10.”

We laughed at him, but I kept his map. And shortly after the Father called us to walk through a dark season where we realized we could do hard, and we could do messy because of His grace, and Jamie came to me and said he believed the father wasn’t going to bring an orphan to himself through us, but he was calling us to a lifelong lifestyle of messy, hard commitment to the mothers and the fathers everyone else had given up on, to the children who were stuck in the middle. He took me to Isaiah 58, which many of us are familiar with, concerning the true fast of pouring ourselves for the oppressed, but he took me to verse 12, where it says that if you commit yourselves to this lifestyle of fasting you will,” rebuild the ancient ruins, raise up the foundations of generations, and be the repairer of the breech.” So as we moved forward in faith, we believed God had/has given us this promise for the families we’re involved in.

A fellow fostering friend remarked to me recently that the call to foster is a call to be a damaged, broken family, but are we not all called to be damaged and broken? Our passionate obedience to the call to be broken is not amazing; it’s obedient…it points to the amazing savior we’re obedient to. It allows our county workers, the mothers and fathers who have given up on themselves, and these children who believe all the blame is theirs to see the hope for their own brokenness in light of our GREAT savior.

It is hard. We have no magic formula for loving and letting go. Nothing is tidy, and loose ends is the name of the game. We are not superhuman because we are doing this. We have one tool that enables us to survive the goodbyes that have been and that we know are coming soon, we have the gospel. Our own children are not our own; they are not for our happiness; we are stewards of them for such a short season, and so with these children we are blessed to parent and these parents we are honored to labor in prayer for such a short time, we are grateful with grief. The gift to parent is not a right, but an honor and gift, and so we take each moment as it comes, believing God will provide all we need for life and godliness.

We’ve been in this such a short while, but Jamie, me, and the boys have never been more confident that we are called to this. Caleb ran in the other day and said, “I love that you’re my mom, but I love more what God has called us to.”

But we are even more confident that we are not called to this alone. This intimate invitation to mother and father the fatherless is a covenant calling, with so many different roles. It is a calling we are challenged to as the body of Christ. I’m so humbled to be a part of it, and I hope that you will join me.

Good Friday Family Devotional

Shorter Catechism Question #142

Where is Christ now?

In heaven, ruling His kingdom and interceding for us.

Read Matthew 27:50-66

As Jesus Christ struggled to breathe, darkness fell. When He was nailed to the cross, all of God’s wrath and anger that we deserved was put completely on Jesus. There was nothing left for us. Jesus took our full punishment. As soon as Jesus’ physical body died, the Bible says the temple curtain was torn in two, from top to bottom. In God’s temple, man could not enter the Holy of Holies, which was God’s special dwelling place beyond the curtain. But now God, himself, destroyed it. God’s children were now welcomed into His presence. He longed for them. God had been planning and waiting for this moment since the first sin of Adam and Eve. He had been weaving together His plan to rescue His covenant children.

Jesus is our priest, our High Priest. He took all the sin that ever was, and all the sin that would ever be, on Him when He died. We never have to fear going to God because of what Jesus did. We can be honest about who we are and the bad things we’ve done because God only sees Jesus when He looks at us.

· Describe a time when someone defended you, or when you defended someone else.

· Have you ever felt unloved by God or afraid to go to Him?

· How does it make you feel to know that God welcomes you into His presence?

· What are some things you can do to be open to God’s presence in your life?

· Thank God that He longs for us. Thank Him for rescuing us through His plan in Jesus.

Sing verse one of Holy, Holy, Holy!

Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!
Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;
Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty!
God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!

Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!
All Thy works shall praise Thy Name, in earth, and sky, and sea;
Holy, holy, holy; merciful and mighty!
God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!

Reginal Heber 1826

Maudy Thursday, Holy Week Family Devotional

Shorter Catechism Questions #138

What does the bread represent?

Christ’s body sacrificed for our sins.

Read John 18:1-11

After Jesus and His disciples finished the Passover Feast, they went to a garden to pray. Judas was one of Christ’s disciples, but he had betrayed Jesus. He had left quietly to go and tell the Jewish leaders where Jesus was in exchange for 30 pieces of silver. But none of this surprised God. He was in control of all things.

While Jesus and His disciples were in the garden, Judas came with a group of soldiers and officers. They had torches and weapons. Jesus knew why they were there. He went to them and asked them who they were looking for. They said Jesus. Jesus answered, “I am He.” In those three words, Jesus told who He was, but he also told them that He was the only Son of God. It says that when Jesus said those words, the soldiers fell to the ground. Jesus’ words were that powerful!

Then Jesus surrendered himself. But Peter, his disciple, became scared. He felt out of control. Peter pulled out his sword and cut off the ear of a servant. Jesus immediately stepped forward. In the book of Luke it says He touched the servant’s ear, and it grew back. Jesus rebuked Peter because He knew it was time for His sacrifice for our freedom. Jesus understood that His surrender meant we would be free to know God’s love for us.

· Describe a time when you felt out of control. How did it make you feel?

· How do you think Jesus felt when He saw Judas and the soldiers?

· How do you think Peter and the soldiers felt when they saw Jesus heal the servant’s ear?

· How does it make you feel to know that Jesus willingly sacrificed himself so that you could know God’s love?

· Thank God for sending us Jesus. Thank Him that Jesus was willing to surrender himself so that we would never have to be in bondage.

Sing verse 1 of “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.”

Come, thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace; streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise. Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above; praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it, mount of God’s unchanging love.

Robert Robinson, 1758

Holy Wednesday Family Devotional

The Last Supper

Read Luke 22: 14-23

Once a year the people of God went to Jerusalem to celebrate the feast of Passover. It was a time to remember the ways God had provided for His people. It was a time to remember how God led them out of slavery in Egypt to freedom. This year Jesus wanted to celebrate the feast with his closest friends, his disciples. The disciples were afraid because they knew people wanted to kill Jesus.

But when the time came, Jesus and his disciples sat down at the table together. Jesus knew it was almost time for Him to die, but He also knew His Father was in control of everything. Jesus told His disciples this would be the last time He would share and eat this special meal with them until the Kingdom of God came.

First, Jesus took the bread. He blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. He said, “This is my body given for you.”

Then, He took the cup of wine. He blessed it and gave it to them. He said, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant of my blood.”

We still celebrate this feast today. In the church we have communion. The bread and the juice remind us of Jesus’ sacrifice. Just like the people of God remembered, we remember that Jesus suffered and died in our place. He took our punishment, our shame, and our separation from God. Jesus took all these things so that we could be free in God’s love for us.

· Share a time you were disciplined for doing something you knew you were not suppose to do. Were you ashamed?

· How does it make you feel to know Jesus took God’s punishment for our sins?

· How does it make you feel to know that we do not have to be ashamed anymore?

· Have you found freedom in Jesus’ suffering for you? If not, talk to your parents about it now.

· Thank God for Jesus’ sacrifice and that Jesus is returning to celebrate this feast with us again.

Sing verses 1 and 6 of “Amazing Grace.”

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now I’m found

Was blind, but now I see.

When we’ve been there ten thousand years,

Bright shining as the sun,

We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise

Than when we’ve first begun.

John Newton, 1779.

Holy Monday Family Devotional

The Outcast

Read Matthew 26:1-16

Jesus talked with His disciples as He had several times before. Except now, the time had almost run out. He told them He would be turned over to be crucified at Passover, in only two days. While Jesus talked with His closest friends, others, who thought He was a dangerous enemy, planned His death. Jesus knew what was coming, and He knew His Father, the one true God, loved Him more deeply than we could ever dream. So days before His death, Jesus sat and ate with those no one else wanted to be with. He dined at Simon the Leper’s house, a man who would have been the outcast of society. He watched as Mary, a woman other men wouldn’t be in the same room with, washed His feet with expensive perfume, and wiped the dirt off with her hair. And when the disciples said she wasted precious money that could have been used for better things, Jesus said she gave Him beautiful worship.

· Describe a time you felt “left out”, like an outcast. How did it feel?

· What would it have been like to be in a room with Jesus just days before His death?

· Would you have been willing to spend time with those others didn’t want to be around? Why or Why not?

· How can you worship Jesus today as the one true King?

· Thank God that He loves you, and invites you to worship Him.

Sing “Lord, I Lift Your Name on High.”

Lord I lift Your name on high

Lord I love to sing Your praises

I'm so glad You're in my life

I'm so glad You came to save us

You came from heaven to earth

(To show the way)

From the earth to the cross

(My debt to pay)